


Skullcrusher Mountain

by abbynormalj



Series: Weird Songfics [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Skullcrusher Mountain - Jonathan Coulton (Song)
Genre: Also Dev is scarface if you know the song, Carry On Countdown 2019, Even More Fantasy AU, Here it is!!, Knight!Simon, M/M, Mad Scientist!Baz, Song fic, Song/Music inspired, fantasy animal experimentation, idk how to warn for that, tbh i already had this written and it fit the prompt so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21698647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbynormalj/pseuds/abbynormalj
Summary: Dr. Tyranny is out to destroy the world. Sir Simon Snow knows this. The mad doctor has stolen state secrets, destroyed government laboratories, and even taken over a small island in his quest for power and world domination. And Simon Snow is the Golden Hero the Mage has chosen to fight against Dr. Tyranny’s evil schemes.But when the mad doctor manages to kidnap him, Simon is forced to reconsider everything he’s known to be true about his world, his mentor, his nemesis, and even himself...Dr. Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch knows he’s been made out to be a villain. After all, even his henchmen think he’s crazy. But if that’s the price for protecting the world from a dystopian dictatorship, he’ll take the hit.That is, as long as it doesn’t involve seeing or hearing about Sir Simon Snow, Baz’s childhood crush and the Mage’s Golden Knight. Unfortunately, his carefully constructed emotional walls all come crashing down around him when Dev, Baz’s favorite henchman, kidnaps Snow on a mission and brings him to their secret lair...on Skullcrusher Mountain.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Weird Songfics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564054
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	Skullcrusher Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a part of a series called “Weird Songfics” in which I find the strangest possible plotty songs and use them as inspiration for fics. Each story will be named after the songs that inspired them. I encourage readers to listen to the song at least once before or during reading. I also take suggestions for new songs to add to my list [(spotify link)](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1VUxZsCZmP6rLiOLJG3eIR?si=uC_Q3XTmT2yREwaFLaJp8A). I can’t promise to write about them but I just love weird songs anyway, so send them in the comments or to [my tumblr](https://hufflepunky.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> This story is based off of Skullcrusher Mountain by Jonathan Coulton. Also, I would like to emphasize that this is definitely a humor fic and I promise it’s just as ridiculous as the song. Please don’t think kidnapping your crush will make them fall for you. That’s bad form, fam. 
> 
> I also took inspiration for this story from Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog and from Noelle Stevenson’s wonderful webcomic/graphic novel, Nimona. I recommend both to anyone who enjoys this fic if you haven’t seen/read them already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **SIMON**

* * *

The Mage’s Golden Hero, Sir Simon Snow, awoke in a bright white room. Simon blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to his new surroundings. He looked down to find himself still clad in his sweat-soaked, slightly bloodied, golden armor. His helmet and sword were both gone. Simon’s eyes wandered the strange room, but nothing stood out aside from the brightness of its smooth white walls. The room was bafflingly seamless. Simon wondered how he had even gotten into it. Where would the door be in a place such as this?

The last thing he remembered was fighting a mechanical monster at the Watford National Library. It was probably a nefarious invention of Dr. Tyranny sent to burn down all the books in the kingdom. As that thought crossed his mind, he shook it from his head. Dr. Tyranny wasn’t the type to burn books. He may have been evil, but he loved knowledge. He was probably planning on _stealing_ the books with his strange robotic contraption.

Simon readjusted his sore body and made to stand and get a closer look at the walls of his little box. At his movement, a screen suddenly flickered to life on the wall to his right and a voice said “Hello!” 

“Ah!” Simon shouted and fell back to the ground. Simon caught himself, but barely. He hoped no one was watching him. Simon shook his head again at this thought. There were no windows in this room. Although he had thought there were no screens or speakers in this room, either, and he was clearly wrong about that.

Simon directed his attention to the screen for lack of anything else to do. There, he found a close-up shot of Dr. Tyranny himself. The infuriatingly-handsome bastard sneered at Simon from the screen, his characteristic black lab coat impeccably ironed. It wasn’t fair. Villainous mad scientists were supposed to be old and wrinkly with wild grey hair. Dr. Tyranny, with his long, pitch-black hair and sharp jawline, probably had his pick of the femme fatales that he partnered with throughout the years. And he was always perfectly put together, unlike Sir Simon Snow, the Mage’s _Mess_ of a Golden Hero. 

Simon grimaced. 

The recording on the screen continued, “My name is Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch and I would like to offer you a warm welcome to my secret lair on Skullcrusher Mountain.” Simon snorted at this. Baz was anything but warm. Simon had known and fought against him since they were both boys at the Watford School of Heros. Baz had always been cold and aloof. The first day they met, Baz refused to shake Simon’s hand, even though they had been magically linked as roommates for their time at school. From there, their relationship only soured. 

“You may know me as Dr. Tyranny,” Baz’s voice droned. “Despite this nickname, I assure you I mean you no harm. I only seek to usurp the Mage from his unjust position of absolute power over my beloved home of Watford. Thank you for your consideration and I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay.” Simon’s mouth fell open at some point and he remained gobsmacked. The screen flicked off and the walls, of what he now realized must be a very clean dungeon, returned to unblemished white.

Simon mulled over the absurdity of Dr. Tyranny’s claims as he began to unlatch his armor, expecting to be trapped in this room for a while. Of course, the silliest thing about Baz’s little introduction was his "warm" welcome. 

_Then_ he had the audacity to say he meant Simon no harm. How could he claim that when all they’d done was fight for the last thirteen years? Years and years of fistfights and sicing monsters and robots on him and verbal sparring during school, followed by an escalating scale of violent encounters in which Simon was proud to say he’d come out on top in every battle, vanquishing a slew of Baz’s convoluted inventions, and foiling a few of his secret plans, usually with Lady Penelope’s help.

Ever since Baz left Hero School abruptly in their last year, he and Simon gone from bitter rivals to mortal enemies. How, then, could he claim to mean Simon no harm? After everything they had been through, Simon had to scoff at this assertion, even if it was from a prerecorded message. 

Finally, Baz had presumed the Mage’s position of power was unjust. The Mage had done more in the name of justice than any leader of Watford before him. Of course Tyrannus Basilton _Grimm-Pitch_ , a product of two of the most powerful old families that used to rule Watford, would accuse the Mage of injustice. The Mage had stripped a lot of power from the former rulers of Watford, but in doing so, he’d been able to enact policies that had better united the kingdom. He’d constantly fought against the elitism of the oligarchical rulers that preceded him. And Simon himself would have been nothing but a poor orphan from a distant town without the Mage's intervention.

Simon sighed, trying to will the tension in his shoulders to melt into the stupidly clean floor. As he unlatched the last of his armor, he pushed thoughts of the strange video message from his mind and meditated, instead, on more pleasant matters. 

He leaned back onto his breastplate where it now lay, closed his eyes, and imagined himself making a daring escape from wherever this _Skullcrusher Mountain_ place was located. He smiled at the absurdity of such a name. It was exactly as theatrical as he would expect from someone like Baz. Baz had also called it his _Secret Lair_ , which is so dramatically villainous, Simon could hardly believe Baz had the gall to insist he wasn’t ‘Evil Dr. Tyranny, M.S.’ (the ‘M.S.' stood for mad scientist, of course) as the world knew him. Simon would laugh about it with Penny when he did make his escape. But thinking about Penny just made him miss her. She was his best friend, his partner in heroism and solving mysteries. He has never known what to do with himself without her there to advise and admonish him in equal measure.

What would Penny say about Baz’s little video message if she _were_ here? Probably, she would scoff with Simon about how dramatic and posh the recording was. And the odd cleanliness of this strange room. She might side with Baz about the Mage, though. Penny may have agreed with many of the Mage’s policies, but she consistently accused him of hoarding power. 

(“It’s tempting fate, Simon. One person having that much control over Watford,” Penny said to him once. Simon scoffed at her, but she glared at him and continued. “No Simon. You know I agree with many of his rulings, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that isolating power is always dangerous. People need to be checked. Power has to be balanced or it _will_ corrupt.” At this, Simon questioned Penny about how she thought Watford should be ruled if not by a king or ruling class. “Well,” she began, and her tone told him to expect a lecture, “I know it’s a new and controversial theory, but I would love to see Watford under the rule of the people, directly. It’s a theory called ‘Democracy...’”)

Agatha would side with Simon, though. Or she would have before she left him. She always believed Simon when they were in school and he said Baz was evil. Penny would usually just scoff and say that he was just a kid like the rest of them, which was true, Simon supposed. But then Baz left school and became Dr. Tyranny and Simon’s worries were proven valid. 

Suddenly, Simon wished he _had_ been wrong about Baz. He wished they all had a normal childhood, without becoming heroes and war strategists and runaways and mad scientists. Simon wished that the Mage didn’t put the worlds brightest spotlight on him by declaring him his personal ‘Golden Hero.’ Maybe then Agatha wouldn’t have had to run away from the immense pressure of being his betrothed (which he didn’t begrudge her in the slightest. Not anymore.) Maybe then he and Penny could have lived together peacefully, somewhere far away, like she talked about. Maybe he and Baz could have even been _friends_. Someone as sharp as Baz would be a great friend to have in any reality.

Simon’s stomach picked right then to growl loudly. The sound echoed around the room slightly, and Simon groaned. He was terribly hungry. Hopefully, Baz would take pity on him and feed him while he was held prisoner. The alternative would be the worst kind of torture Simon could imagine. Even thinking of something so evil agitated Simon, so he stood and began pacing the room.

It was only minutes later that a door appeared suddenly in the opposite wall of the screen, opening to reveal Simon’s savior. His savior from the horrible torture of hunger, at least.

**BAZ**

* * *

“You brought WHOM?” Baz shouted at Dev, who had just returned from his latest reconnaissance mission in the capital.

“Simon Snow,” he responded, his scarred face not showing a hint of remorse. Dev knew Baz dangerously well, which was unsurprising considering the two were cousins and had been working together for the last five years.

Baz forced himself to breathe deeply in an attempt to control his quickly-beating heart. 

“So let me get this straight,” Baz began (although nothing about this situation was straight). “You captured Sir Simon Snow: the Mage’s Golden Knight, my mortal enemy, the same Sir Snow that I have banned as a laboratory discussion topic.” Baz took a deep breath, hoping Dev hadn’t noticed that his voice broke when he said Snow’s name, then he continued, “then you decided, in a fit of apparent delusion, to bring him here? To my Secret Lair on Skullcrusher Mountain?”

Dev’s expression didn’t change one iota. “Yeah. Your ex-roommate from school, Simon Snow, the Mage’s Chosen Golden Hero.” He shrugged. He _shrugged_. Baz couldn’t believe Dev, his right hand man, his favorite henchman, his _assistant_ , would defy him so.

“I-” Baz started, shaking his head, “I don’t know what else to say.”

“Well he’s here,” Dev answered, “in the holding room. He’s just seen the introductory recording.”

Baz sighed. He supposed he would have to work with the situation that had been handed to him, whether he liked it or not. “I guess I’ll have to go see him, then.” Baz closed his eyes, trying to repress the way his heart jumped at the simple _idea_ of seeing Simon again. 

Baz walked through several hallways and at least one hairpin turn before reaching the control room for Skullcrusher Mountain’s security. Sure enough, there was Simon on the monitoring screen for the holding room, lounging back against his dirty armor, which was spread across the floor of the room haphazardly. Baz sat down quickly in the chair of the control room before he fell to the floor in a full swoon. 

Baz had almost forgotten how strong his feelings for Sir Snow were. All it took to remind him was Simon sitting in Baz’s holding room in only a tunic and leggings, sweat sticking his bronze curls to his forehead. As he watched the screen, Simon sighed and fidgetted, his eyebrows pulling together for a moment while he lifted his arms to pillow behind his head. Baz looked away quickly before he was too overwhelmed. There was only a certain amount of Simon’s shoulders and biceps (and curls and cluelessness and bravery) Baz could handle at once after months without contact.

Baz Pitch had been in love with Simon Snow since they were fifteen. Of course he knew, even back then, that they could never be together. Baz could never align himself with the Mage and Simon would never _leave_ the Mage. 

They were a mismatched pair in so many ways, but that didn’t stop Baz from pining for years. For one thing, Baz was quite probably the smartest person in the kingdom. He was certainly the best in his classes when he was still at Watford School of Heros. And Baz was the youngest Doctor in all of Watford. That, he was immensely proud of. Sir Snow may have been a ridiculously brave and brash hero, but he was too much of an idiot to see that the Mage was using him. Or that Baz was in love with him. And once, after a battle with a dragon that they eventually managed to banish, Simon told Baz his strategy for dealing with his difficult problems was just to _not think about them_. Sometimes Baz railed against his illogical feelings for someone so dense, but he never resisted for long.

Then, when he was supposed to begin his eighth and final year at Watford, Baz began hearing from the ghost of his dead mother. She was smart, too. A genius, really. Probably smarter than Baz. She figured out a way to encode a sliver of her conscience into his DNA. At first, when he started hearing her, he just thought he was crazy. _(Maybe he was crazy. He still wondered sometimes if he was making this whole thing up.)_ Then her voice explained. When she died, she used her final and most advanced invention. She embedded a piece of herself in him. In her son. Her flesh and blood. When she felt he was old enough to cope, she revealed herself and he began his quest for revenge and for the truth.

Baz had been pursuing his mother’s dying wish for the last five years since leaving hero school, and he didn’t regret a moment of it. However, following a voice in his head for _five years_ did make the people around Baz question his sanity. Even Dev and Niall, Baz’s favorite henchmen, who fully believed in his cause, doubted his original motivations. After all, transferring any portion of human consciousness to another person was unprecedented. Niall even thought Baz should see a _psychiatrist_ , which was absurd.

Baz looked back to Simon, still lounging on screen, and thought about their various fights across the years. Simon certainly thought Baz was evil. If Simon knew about the voice in Baz’s head, Baz wondered, would he think Baz was crazy, too? That would be the fly-infested icing on the shit cake of Baz’s love life, which had thus far only consisted of pining and wanking. 

In a move sure to increase his misery, Baz replayed the recordings from when Sir Snow arrived to Skullcrusher Mountain. The first few minutes consisted of Dev dumping him in the holding room and then Sir Snow lying unconscious on the floor (Baz appreciated the peaceful look on Simon’s face). Eventually, he started to stir in his sleep. He groaned as he awoke (Baz felt his heart rate increase, traitorous thing). Snow stared blearily around the room from his place on the ground. Finally, he began to stand up, which triggered the motion sensors in the room, and in turn, the introductory recording Baz had standardized for when he took prisoners, which was _generally_ his last resort.

As the recording began, Simon startled and fell to the ground with an adorable shout before looking around the room and blushing under his freckled cheeks. (It was moments like these that destroyed any resentment Baz imagined himself to have against Sir Simon Snow. The man was simply so good and so well-intentioned that Baz couldn’t help falling for him over and over again.) Simon frowned when he saw Baz speaking on the screen. The camera that recorded the room was just above the screen, so it seemed to Baz as if Simon was frowning directly at him through the screen. He huffed and puffed through Baz’s welcome message and rolled his eyes after it was finished.

If only Simon weren’t so afraid of Baz, so entrenched in the hate the Mage (and Baz himself) had encouraged over the years, maybe Simon could be swayed to Baz’s side in their mortal conflict. It was probably wishful thinking on Baz’s part. And definitely not good for his already tenuous mental health.

Baz rested his chin on his palm, eyes fixed on the screen as Simon decided to settle into the room and began removing his armor one piece at a time. When Baz checked his chin for drool and his hand came away wet, he was mortified enough to stop the recording and switch back to the live feed, in which Simon was now pacing the room, his hand dragging along the wall.

At some point, Baz would have to deal with the fact that Sir Simon Snow was his prisoner. He would rather live in a world where he _didn’t_ have to confront Sir Snow, but Dev had forced his hand. Baz’s finger hovered over the two intercom buttons at the communication center, unsure of how to proceed. When he glanced back to the screen, Simon was stopped, inspecting the wall that housed the screen. He was strangely distorted so near the edge of the fish-eye lens of the room’s camera. Suddenly, he looked straight up at the camera. Baz’s heart jumped and he pressed the intercom button.

“Dev. Would you escort Sir Snow to our best secure guest chamber? I have other business to attend to.” 

Baz did not actually have other business, but the momentary illusion of looking into Simon’s plain blue eyes (a little pouchy, the only plain thing about him) reinforced the fact that he was very much _not_ ready to confront Simon.

“Sure, Baz,” Dev droned back over the intercom system. With that, Baz hurried away along the labyrinthine hallways of his secret lair on Skullcrusher Mountain.

**SIMON**

* * *

Simon jumped violently when the door to his strange dungeon revealed itself. He had been inspecting the wall that had been a screen only minutes before, but had yet to find a single divot or imperfection in its surface. Predictably, the door was at the complete opposite end of the room from where he was looking. He reacted quickly (he was a knight, after all) and reached for his sword. When he realized it wasn’t by his side, he turned and picked up one of his greaves from the pile of armor on the floor. His armor had served him as makeshift weapons in sticky situations several times before.

The corridor beyond the open door was dark in contrast to the white room in which he’d spent the past several hours, so all he could see in the doorway was a looming figure.

“Who goes there?” Simon asked, squinting through the door.

The hulking figure stepped into the light and Simon realized quickly that he recognized him. It was Dev Grimm, commonly called ‘Scarface,’ and a known associate of Dr. Tyranny. Of course, Simon also recognized him as Dev, Baz’s cousin from school. The scar was a relatively new part of the equation, but it didn’t scare Simon, who had always been friendlier with Dev than with Baz.

“Oh. Hi Dev. Didn’t know you’d be here.” Simon dropped his greave back on the floor and it clanged loudly. Dev cringed.

“Yup. I’m here.” Dev said, nodding. “Dr. Pitch wanted me to take you to your guest chambers.”

“Guest chambers? Wait. Dr. Pitch? Aren’t you, like, his cousin?”

“Yes. Even more reason for me to respect his achievements, don’t you think?”

“His- I’m... Wait, is Baz an actual doctor?”

“Yes. He’s just finished his second PhD.”

“Oh. I... I thought Dr. Tyranny was just a name. Huh. That makes sense, I guess.” Dev’s already-scarred face twisted further as Simon spoke, but he didn’t respond this time. Instead, he tilted his head towards the door, gesturing for Simon to follow. He wondered briefly why Dev wasn't restraining him. He was a prisoner, right? “Uh. What about my armor?”

“We’ll have it brought to your guest rooms after it is cleaned.” 

At this, Simon shrugged and followed Dev through a maze of winding white hallways that eventually became smooth stone walls. He wondered idly why he was even here. He wasn’t sure what The Evil Doctor Tyranny, M.S., or The Evil Doctor Tyranny, M.S., PhD, he supposed, would gain from keeping him prisoner. Simon was under the impression Dr. Tyranny wanted to kill Sir Snow. Their eventual epic battle was practically prophesied. Simon was privately not very hopeful of his own chances. Baz was wicked smart as well as strong. He was never great at swordplay, but it seemed unlikely to Simon that their battle would resort to such measures. (The current prisoner situation also deserved consideration in their fated duel-to-the-death.)

Finally, they reached a dark-stained wooden door, deep in the complex, or lair, as Baz had called it in the video (typical). Dev opened the door and turned to Simon. 

“This is where Dr. Pitch will be hosting you during your stay on Skullcrusher Mountain.”

Simon nodded at Dev and paused. “Yup. Well, thanks Dev.” He started toward the open doorway, but paused before he was all the way through. “Uh. Sorry. Actually...” Simon trailed off, trying to figure out how to properly word his question. “Can I ask you why Baz wants me here? Why did he take me prisoner instead of killing me?”

Dev had backed partially into shadows again, but Simon swore he saw him smile. “I think,” Dev said, “you will have to ask him yourself.” Simon quirked his brow at that answer, but stepped fully into the richly decorated room that was to be his new prison, now wondering what nefarious tortures and interrogations might be in store for him. For now, though, he fixated on the beautiful tableau of food set on the table near one rocky wall of the room. Simon couldn’t resist a feast, especially when he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He pushed aside any niggling thoughts that the food might be poisoned and dug into the bread, roast beef, and fresh fruit spread before him on fine china.

Once Simon had devoured the possibly-poisoned food, he was overcome with exhaustion, despite being unconscious for an undetermined amount of time earlier in the day. He turned toward the bed, which was decorated with a disturbing number of skulls and gargoyles, intent on a nap. Simon inspected the bed from a few feet away before turning to the couch instead. Some things were a little too creepy to sleep on.

**BAZ**

* * *

Baz was loitering in the lab, watching a test for a new batch of automated decoding software he was planning to use against some of the Mage’s private records, when Dev returned from escorting Sir Snow to his new chambers. That particular test didn’t actually need to be monitored. The test was run by Baz’s main bank of computers, whose AI was more than capable of reporting and fixing any errors that might occur. Dev was aware of this, so Baz decided not to snap at his cousin for the judgemental look he sent Baz.

“I’ve fed him and locked him in the first secure chamber.”

Baz cleared his throat and nodded. Dev was a good man. “Good, good. How was it?”

“He came along with me easily. No struggle. Even without restraints, as requested.”

Baz nodded again, still avoiding looking directly at his cousin. 

“You should go talk to him. He asked why you kidnapped him.”

“ _You_ kidnapped him, Dev.”

“Yes. And now you have a chance to talk to him again. Stop with your determined misery.” Baz met his cousin’s eyes and frowned. Dev really did know him too well. _Or maybe he had an accomplice._ It was a rather complex plan for Dev to execute on his own. Not that Dev wasn’t an adept minion. Creativity just wasn’t his strong suit. Baz narrowed his eyes in a glare.

“Someone helped you with this, didn’t they?”

Dev simply nodded. “It was Niall’s idea, but Fiona has been in on it, as well.”

Baz sighed. “Figures.”

It took Baz another hour or so to work up the courage to go down to the secure chamber to talk with Sir Snow. It was, unfortunately, shaping up to be an unavoidable task, though. Three of Baz’s most trusted henchmen (henchpeople?) conspiring against him was a real blow.

Baz arrived at Simon’s door (he was already calling it ‘Simon’s door’ in his head? This spelled disaster) laden with tea, biscuits, and a set of spare toiletries for the en suite. He knocked twice and waited a moment before scanning his palm to unlock and open the door. The knocking was technically unnecessary as Simon had no way of opening the door from the inside. Baz simply hoped that some manners might soften their relationship now that--. He sighed. What a silly thing to hope for. They had far too long a history of animosity for anything to improve between them.

The door opened and there stood Simon, his hand reaching out toward the door as if he could have done anything to open it. His hair was on end and his clothes dirty and rumpled. Baz wondered if he had been sleeping. They stared at one another for a moment, stunned into silence. 

“I--,” Simon started, “I was expecting Dev.”

“Ah. Yes.” Baz responded. “I’m glad you met him. My assistant. Scarface.”

Simon made a face. He couldn’t raise one eyebrow, though, so he raised both and just ended up looking surprised. It was entirely adorable. “You know I’ve met him before, Baz. We went to school together for years.”

Baz cleared his throat. “Yes. Well, it has been a while. I know Dev’s appearance has... changed.” Simon shrugged, bless him. “He’s generally as harmless as when you knew him; the rumors are untrue, as usual. He’s always been a bit of a romantic, really.” Baz coughed, surprised at his own admissions. 

Simon still wore his baffled expression. “Yeah. He seemed the same. Called you Dr. Pitch, even.”

Baz could feel the corners of his lips twitch at this, but he held back his full smile. Dev was a good man, despite his meddling. “Ah. He does do that. He says it’s a reclamation of the good parts of ‘Dr. Tyranny.’ Here, take this.” Baz paused to hand over the tray of food. “I brought tea for you. I know you don’t function without constant caloric intake. And these are fresh toiletries for the en suite.”

**SIMON**

* * *

“Yeah,” Simon muttered, taking the tray and placing it on a table just inside the room before returning to the door where Baz waited, holding an expensive looking zipper bag. Why was Baz doing this? This was the nicest conversation they’d ever had. But Simon was apparently his prisoner? He should ask about it now, right? Baz was right here. He should ask _why_ he was taken prisoner. Why hadn’t Baz killed him when he’d had the chance? So many questions were swirling through Simon’s head, he felt as if the correct one was sure to pop out of his mouth at some point.

Then he was at the door again, staring Baz down. (Well, staring up at Baz, technically.) He looked older than the last time Simon had seen him. He still looked good, of course. Great, even. But Simon didn’t miss the bags under Baz’s eyes. Or the anxious slope of his shoulders. 

“Ummm,” Simon said, unable to find any of the words he was supposed to say. He leaned against the door frame and lifted up his arm to run his fingers through his hair. His hands were itching to do something, but he couldn’t figure out what. He clenched them repeatedly so they would stop.

Baz handed him the zipper bag before flicking his gaze to the ground. He opened his mouth and closed it, also at a loss for words. Simon had never seen Baz like this. Frankly, it concerned him.

“Dev doesn’t deserve the reputation he’s gotten by associating with me. I hope you can see that.” Simon simply hummed in response, a bit surprised at Baz’s choice of subject. “He’s a good man and is good at his job. And,” a smile cracked Baz’s facade, “he has a way of finding pretty things and bringing them to me.” 

Suddenly, Baz looked up, into his eyes, and Simon was hit with the full force of his grin and his words at once. Simon stumbled back from the doorway, only one question running through his head now: _Baz thinks I’m pretty?_

As soon as Baz took in Simon’s reaction, he dropped his smile, glaring instead, and grabbed the door handle to lock Simon back into his opulent prison. The last thing Simon heard from him before he shut and locked the secure door was a terse, “goodnight, Sir Snow,” and then the room was silent.

**BAZ**

* * *

Baz walked down the hallway toward his lab in a daze. He couldn’t believe he’d just said _that_ to Simon. To Sir Simon Snow The Mage’s Golden Knight, and also his prisoner (Baz wondered what on Earth he was thinking keeping a prisoner such as Simon. The two of them were fated to kill one another. Why not take the chance now that Sir Snow was disarmed? He really should. He never could.) His hands were trembling at his sides and his feet were taking him, by muscle memory, to his own chambers. 

Eventually, the roiling cloud of thoughts in Baz’s head cleared enough to recognise there was another voice beating rhythmically through his mind. The longer his mother’s voice had lived in his head, the more he’d gotten used to it there. And the more he had gotten used to it, the harder it was to separate from his own stream of consciousness. Now, though, he read her message loud and clear: 

_You shouldn’t kill him yet, you shouldn’t kill him yet, you shouldn’t kill him yet._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm publishing this fic because of how well it fits todays Carry On Countdown prompt (Song/Music-Inspired) but I actually have very little of the rest of it written. I outlined it at 4 chapters plus an epilogue but I am a very slow writer as most of my creative juices go to my job, which I love. So I cannot promise quick updates and based on my other work, which has been waiting for it's last chapter for like 8 months..... It might be a loooong time. I do hope to keep writing this and have a few more fics planned in this series, but even if I don't get to it, this one chapter is still fun :)


End file.
